Torn

Please let me go. You know you want to.
Your door is open but I’m constrained by my unrelenting desire for you.
When I kiss you I’m captured in your prison of unending love.
My arms want to wrap you up as I enter an endless cuddle of happiness with you.
When you touch me I swoon in hardness, another man captured in his lustfulness.
I want to be yours and I want to be free, but I have no rights here.
How could you tear me apart so that my flesh hangs flaccidly from me?
I want you to take me and use me.
Use me again and again, like your own pet for pleasure. You hold my lead.
I know you are lost in your own desires, and trapped in your own cage of blinkered constraints.
Can you tear it open or are your desires twirling around you blindly?
Take me, use me, abuse me, I’m all yours to tear apart.
Kiss you, cuddle you, pleasure you, happiness embraces me herself when you do.
Do you see me, or am I too torn apart for you to recognise my need is you?
Let me have you, for you should know all of me, as you own all of me.
Knowing you want me, but torn apart by my wreckage, the mist blinds our lust for being together as one.
Lost in my maze of unholy lust for you, I wander in the recollection of our moonlight’s glittering kisses. You cannot hide me from them.
Trying to navigate without a compass, you are beached after a tidal surge of wanting me, you hide away from my shards that tear apart your love.
I see pieces of my lust and love, lying shattered and torn at my feet. Look upon them in disgusted opportunism.
How could you sit idly by as I’m torn apart by your blindness to my passionate desire for you? You perched in the shambles of Parap's emptiness.
You, a train wreck of pasts cages, built for you by your angels.
Your guardians forever happy to use you as their puppet until you unknowingly transform yourself into their playful doll.
Yet when I demand you be mine, for you to own and use me, you refuse my opportunity.
How can a puppet ever use its own doll for it’s own desires?
Dancing, lost in the shadows of the ripped apart reality of your own complicacy, your bowed legs carry you further away from me.
A bleeding victim of life’s torturous love of lust, I cannot be yours unless you want a shredded mess of masculine emotional ineptitude.
Don’t lie to me, and don’t hide your eyes, you ultimately dance for others. You are their flower to gaze upon and reconfigure.
I’m not for you to use, my spurting eruptions hold no entertainment for you, for the strings that hold you are binding your flesh tightly. Blood oozes through the ligatures of your torn flesh.
And what use am I, a useless toy that lays strewn and torn apart on your bedroom floor?
Discarded and old, I am no longer recyclable, I must be thrown in an empty rubbish bin that holds no lust or spraycan of cream.
Scraps of empty passion, torn apart by unfilled desires, my empty dreams are poured over me until I lay saturated in sadness.
Lamenting that all I offered was unseen by the blindness that surrounds you. Your tattered cage of shattered dreams contains it all.
What need have you for one such as me?
For a puppet has no need of a man to use, abuse and enjoy.
My far flung entrails of lust bring no joy to a lifeless plastic image of feminine form.
The strings that make you dance are useless as sutures for my erupting desires.
Do you know I am simply a toy like you but torn apart by my own raindrops of acidic passion?
Ready to melt into the loving earth that welcomes all its weary travellers who have been ripped apart by wanderlust and unending passionate love.
Your talons have served you well, and now you have feasted on me, slink back into your cage where you might dance as a puppet raptor.